Dirty Little Secrets
by Erin Allen
Summary: Ray's father dies and he must go to Miami to see to the funeral. But what he finds out there could very well destroy what he has with Neela. What do you do when you find out your life is nothing but a dirty little secret?
1. Chapter 1

1

1

_I don't answer the phone. I get the feeling whenever I do that there will be someone on the other end. Fred Couples_

Ray groaned and rolled over when the phone began its insistent ringing. Bleary eyed, he glared at the clock across the room and cursed softly. It was three in the morning, and he'd just come off a double shift. He and Neela had only been asleep for two hours. If that was the hospital calling one of them back in, then he was going to kill the caller. Slowly. With pain.

"If that's Morris, tell him I'm dead," Neela muttered, pulling her pillow over her head.

Ray grinned ruefully glancing over at her huddled form under the blanket in the darkened room. He could tell them that about Neela, but him? He was screwed. Chief residents didn't get days off or down time like normal people.

"Go back to sleep, baby," he told her softly. "I'll take care of it."

He grabbed the phone, snatching it off the base to glare at the display. Of course he recognized the number. Why wouldn't he? He'd only just come from the damn place three hours ago. Growling low in his throat, he hit the button and slammed the thing to his ear.

"This had better be good," he snarled.

"Well, hello to you too," Morris sniped. "I hope you have a better bedside manner than that with our patients."

"I just came off a double, Archie. I've only been asleep for two hours."

"I know, and I'm sorry to call you," Morris said, actually sounding like he meant it. "But Sarah called in sick, Abby's kid is out with chicken pox, and Jason called to say that he has rectal glaucoma."

"He has what?" Ray asked in disbelief, thinking that he was hearing things.

"Rectal glaucoma. He said he just couldn't see his ass coming in today."

Ray ran a hand over his face, feeling a day's worth of stubble grind against his palm. That was good. He hadn't heard that one before. It wasn't good enough to make him feel any better about being rousted out of bed with two hours sleep. Of course, if he killed Jason Williams, he was sure he'd feel a lot better about it.

"What about Gates?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"Gates is out of town, remember? Visiting his…whatever the girl is to him. He cleared it weeks ago."

"Shit." Ray fell back on the pillow. He weighed his options for a moment before growling. "I'm not staying all day. I've had two hours sleep and was supposed to be off today."

"When we get slow, you can crash in the on call room. I promise. But right now we need you down here." There was a pause. "Neela wouldn't happen to…"

"Not a chance. She's got the same thing Jason has right now."

"Okay, okay. Just thought I'd ask. I'll see you later."

The line went dead, leaving Ray feeling like road kill. Irritated, he punched the end button and slammed the offending contraption back on the base, wishing that he could just forget the whole conversation had ever happened. Blowing out a breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed his hands through his hair, his elbows on his knees.

In the darkened room, he couldn't see the twisted scars across his leg, but as tired as he was, he could feel them. His whole leg ached from the long day he'd just endured. And the weather wasn't helping either. It had been unseasonably cold for spring, and the cold seemed to get into his bones like nothing else could. He grimaced when he stretched his right leg out, feeling the ache all the way to the mended bone. It was days like this that he wished that the driver of the truck that had hit him had called in that night. Then he wouldn't have to deal with this.

"Ray? Where are you going?" Neela's sleepy voice said from her side of the bed.

"Work. Half the night staff decided to call in."

"Can't Morris find someone else?" she asked, then answered her own question. "Of course not. He's lucky if he can find his own arse."

Ray chuckled softly and leaned over to kiss her. Even after a year together, he didn't think he'd ever get enough of her kisses. They'd had a long hard road to come to this place, but he wasn't about to trade it for anything. Michael, Gates, Ray's accident…all of those events had conspired to drive them apart. He kissed her again as the memory of those early days after his accident came back to him. Sometimes, when the pain had been so bad that he just wished they would cut the damn thing off, somehow Neela had been there to help him through it. She'd come back to the ER, giving up her surgical spot. When Ray had recovered, he'd come back to an ER that was in a state of chaos. Kovach was gone, having started his own private practice. Pratt had taken Kovach's spot, and Morris had slipped into Pratt's spot…which left the ER short one chief resident. Ray had gone for the position without much hope that he'd get it. But he had, and he now had five residents under him. Only now did he understand why everyone had always been so pissy with him in the early days, though he didn't think he was half as bad as Jason. If Weaver had still been there, Jason would have been gone ages ago.

Sometimes he wondered what the hell he'd been thinking, taking that management job. The job was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. But Neela had changed him. He'd finally become the dedicated doctor that she had known he could be. But at times like these, he wished that he'd decided to become a lawyer instead. Then he wouldn't be getting calls in the middle of the night for work. He'd still be asleep with his girlfriend in his arms. She rolled over, wrapping her arms around his neck as she held him closer.

"Are you sure you have to go?" she asked softly, smiling a little.

Ray laughed at the blatant invitation in her tone, sliding his hands down her sides. "Yes. I'm the Chief Resident. If I don't show up, then what am I there for?"

"I never thought I'd see the day when Ray Barnett would care more about work than play."

"And lose your good opinion of me?" he asked, nuzzling her throat. "What the hell would I do then?"

"Suffer for eternity in a pigsty," she replied smartly, stifling a yawn. "If you have to go, take a shower. I'll make you some coffee."

He shook his head, stroking her cheek. "Go back to sleep. I'll be fine."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled before pushing him back.

"I'm awake now, and I'll feel better if you have coffee and some pain meds before you leave. And don't tell me that your leg isn't bothering you. I know better."

"You wouldn't want to come with me would you?" he asked, giving her a pout that was usually guaranteed to get him whatever he wanted. For once, he was doomed to disappointment.

"Not a chance," she said, pushing up from the bed and snatching her robe from the door. She smiled coyly at him over her shoulder, and his body tightened. "But I'll make it up to you later."

He blew out a breath and scowled at her, shaking his head ruefully when she laughed.

"Tease," he called out at her retreating form. Sighing, he gathered up some clothes and trudged to the bathroom for a cold shower.

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Ray slammed through the ambulance bay doors, wincing as a toddler screamed in reception. Jesus! It was four in the morning on a Wednesday and the place looked like Grand Central Station. Ray glanced around and saw that it was standing room only in the waiting area, and there were people on gurneys in the hall.

"Ray! What the hell took you so long? We're dying here."

Ray shot Morris a look that promised death and headed for the locker room. Morris however, didn't seem to get the message and followed him in.

"Morris, you're going to be limping worse than I am if you don't back off."

"Sheesh! Touchy, touchy."

"You try functioning on no sleep and a half pot of coffee," Ray snarfed, snatching his lab coat out of his locker and jamming his arms into the sleeves.

"I'm sorry. I really am, but…"

Ray paused, gathering himself together before he said or did something he might not regret. It wasn't Morris's fault that half the doctors had called in. It wasn't his fault that Ray hadn't gotten any sleep. And Morris wasn't responsible for Jason's idiocy. A beautiful vision of his hands around Jason's throat made Ray smile for a moment before he shook it off.

"Don't worry about it. Once we get some of the board cleaned up, I'm going to the on call room for some shut eye."

Morris paused. "If you can get Jason to come in, then you can go home."

Ray raised an eyebrow. If he got Jason to come in, it would be to wring the little shit's neck.

"Deal," he snapped, and headed for the door. "Let me make a quick phone call, and I'll get started."

Morris nodded and veered off toward an exam room while Ray made a bee line for the desk. He ignored Frank's mocking look as he snatched up the phone and dialed Jason's number. The phone rang twice before it was picked up and a voice on the other end was snapping in annoyance.

"I told you…"

"You told me what?" Ray asked dangerously.

"Barnett! I thought you were Morris. I told him earlier, I have something going here and I can't…"

"You can't see your way clear to come in tonight. I know. I heard."

"You know how it is, man," Williams' voice lowered conspiratorially. "I've heard the stories…"

"I know three things right now, Williams," Ray broke in, holding tight to his temper. "One. I don't care what you've heard about me. You aren't me. Two. Morris is your boss and I think he can manage to write your pink slip without too much trouble. And three. If you're not in here within two hours, don't bother showing up again. Ever. You got that?"

There was a long silence on the line before Jason's curt affirmative cut through.

"See you in a couple of hours," Ray snapped and hung up.

He blew out a breath, leaning on his hands against the desk as he tried to bring his temper under control. Christ his leg was killing him!

"That was impressive."

"Shut up, Frank."

"Very Weaver-esque."

"Bite me," Ray muttered, snatching up a chart to scan the contents. He'd never thought that he would become such a hard ass, but dammit! He was tired of the slacker. One of these days he was going to have to call Weaver and apologize for his past stupidity. He glanced at Frank as he passed.

"Don't you have something to do?"

Frank held up his hands, muttering about something that Ray didn't care to hear. The phone on the desk rang and the man went to answer it, cutting off anything else he might have said. Ray forced a smile and waded through the full hall to his first patient.

000000

It was all he could do later that morning to just climb the steps to his apartment building. His leg was throbbing in time to his heartbeat and felt as if he'd just been hit all over again. Jason had decided to wait an extra hour past the deadline to actually show up. The dark look in his deep brown eyes as he'd passed the desk had dared Ray to say anything about it. Ray ground his teeth as he finally made his way to the elevator. He intended to do something about it, but not until he'd had the chance to let his temper cool. If he'd said anything then, there would have been bloodshed.

The apartment was silent when he finally entered. Neela had gone in around ten though it was supposed to be her day off. The place had still been packed, but the day staff had all shown up, so she wouldn't have to stay long. As it was, she'd find him dead asleep when she did come home.

He closed the door behind him, dropping his bag to the floor next to the door before trudging grimly to their room. He had the sense of mind to kick off his shoes before falling fully clothed onto the bed. All he could feel was relief to at last be lying down and sleep claimed him without so much as a whimper of protest.

But when the phone rang beside his head, he was fully awake and ready to fight. He didn't care if Morris was being attacked by ten foot gorillas; he wasn't coming back in until tomorrow. The hairy apes could have him. Cursing, he snatched the phone off the base and jammed his finger into the button, not bothering to lift his head from the pillow.

"If this isn't life or death, I'm hanging up."

"Ray?"

As quickly as that, his anger cooled Ray was fully awake, a hard knot of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

"Aunt Amy?" he asked, lifting his head to peer at the clock. He'd only been asleep for an hour. But Amy wouldn't have called him for no reason.

"Ray, honey, I have to tell you something. Your dad…"

Ray sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. He'd long since given up on his father ever getting help for his problem. Alcohol was a cruel mistress to live with, but Richard Barnett had lived with it for twenty years. He'd never been cruel. Never hit Ray in a fit of drunken anger. Hadn't even raised his voice. But the embarrassment had been more than Ray could take most days. Knowing every bar between their home and Orlando, and every bar owner knowing him…a ten year old kid, was just sad. Getting up early so that you could bring in aspirin and orange juice mixed with a little hair of the dog wasn't something that a child should have to do. But Ray had done it. He'd listened to the broken apologies, the promises to do better, the slobbering tears when his father had slipped up yet again. He'd heard it all and had finally stopped believing.

"What is it this time, Amy? Another DUI? How much will he need for bail?"

There was a muted sob on the other end of the line and the sound of shuddering breathing.

"It's not that this time, Ray. Honey, your father…he…"

And just like that, Ray knew what she was having so much trouble saying. The knot twisted even tighter, making him wonder if he was going to throw up soon. His breathing rasped in and out of his lungs so hard that he almost had to force it. His father was dead.

"When?" he asked hoarsely, not trusting himself to say anything else. What else was there to say? What was done was done. He couldn't change it, and he couldn't absorb it.

"Last night. The doctors say it was a heart attack. They say he didn't suffer…"

Yeah, Ray thought a little bitterly. He didn't suffer at all. He'd half expected this call for years now, telling him that his dad's liver had turned into a rotted sieve from alcohol. A heart attack was kind of a dénouement to what he'd assumed would happen.

"When is the service?" he asked his now sobbing aunt. He was too tired to try and comfort her, and his own tattered emotions too raw. He could imagine her sitting in her kitchen, her sweetly pretty face flushed with her grief, her blonde hair pulled back in a barrette to trail down her back. He could even see the way her plump little hands fluttered against her throat as she wept.

"Sunday. You'll come won't you? I know that you and your father…"

She trailed off as if sensing his sudden flash of anger. He and his father hadn't spoken in six months, but there had been at least an uneasy peace between them. What had happened in the past between them was gone. Done and over with. There was no use or purpose in bringing it up.

"I'll be there," he said shortly. "I'll call with my flight plans."

She was silent for a long moment before she sighed.

"He did love you, Ray. You know that right?"

Ray closed his eyes and rubbed the lids with two fingers.

"Yes."

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'll be waiting for your call."

Ray let his arm relax, dropping the phone into his lap. He should never have answered it…


	2. Chapter 2

2

2

_What we remember from childhood we remember forever - permanent ghosts, stamped, inked, imprinted, eternally seen. Cynthia Ozick_

Ray paused in the act of throwing clothes into a gym bag when he heard the door to their apartment close quietly. Well, as quietly as the squeaky hinge allowed. He shook his head, smiling slightly at the small curse that came from Neela when the sound echoed through the mostly silent apartment. Even though his increased income had allowed them to get a better apartment, it seemed that every building manager in the city of Chicago was required by law to ignore tenants' complaints unless fifty dollar bills were in play.

Satisfied that they weren't being robbed, Ray stuffed the fist full of shirts into the opened bag and crossed the room to stick his head out the door.

"You didn't have to be quiet," he said with a small smile. "I'm awake."

She jumped at the sound of his voice behind her and whirled to face him, her black hair fanning out as she turned. She was still wearing the scrubs that she'd changed into at the hospital; a testament to just how tired she was. She never came home with scrubs on.

"You scared the life out of me," she accused, tossing her keys irritably onto the kitchen counter. "And how was I to know you were awake? I didn't hear the pounding of drums or the screech of guitars on my way up."

Ray knew that he should have been resentful of the long drawn out argument between them, but right now it was just what he needed. A little bit of normalcy when his entire world was going to shit. Without a word, he walked over to her and took her in his arms, just inhaling the scent of her shampoo that no hospital smell seemed to be able to banish. He could feel her confusion at his actions, but to her credit, she said nothing for the moment; just wrapped her arms around his middle and held him.

After a few long moments just feeling the warmth of her body against his, she lifted her head to look up at him in confused amusement.

"What was that for?" she asked, her voice low and gentle; just as it was when they made love. He swallowed hard as he mastered his body's response to the sound. Now wasn't the time, though he wished for nothing more than to find forgetfulness in her.

"I just needed that," he said finally, closing his eyes. "Listen, Neela…"

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice sharpening a degree. "I know that tone."

Ray nearly laughed. She knew him so well.

"I have to go to Miami."

She was silent so long that he opened his eyes to see her face. Her dark gaze was firmly fixed on his face as if waiting for a retraction. When it didn't come, she sighed and looked away.

"What's he done this time, Ray?" she asked, tension tightening her voice.

For a moment, Ray felt a measure of anger fill his gut at her disgusted tone, but squashed it. After all, hadn't that been his first reaction when he'd gotten the call? Neela had every right to be angry. The last time a call had come from Miami had been six months before. Ray had been nearly insane with pain from physical therapy, and his father had called for money for another DUI. By the end of the call, Neela had been forced to peel the phone from his hand to stop the yelling. She'd finished the conversation for him, telling his father in no uncertain terms just what she thought of his request. And in the end, she'd been the one to wire the money. Even against her better judgment, she'd done it.

"It's not that this time," he said finally. "Dad died."

Her eyes snapped to his face, widening to roughly the size of saucers as her hands rose to cover her mouth in mortification.

"Oh, bollocks," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't…"

"You didn't know," he said, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. "But I understand. Believe me."

"How..?"

"Amy said it was a heart attack," he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. He turned, limping back to their room. "She said it was quick, that he didn't feel a thing." He started stuffing jeans into the bag with the shirts he already had in there. "But I have to go help Amy get his affairs in order. Go to the funeral. Endure a wake most likely." He paused, running his hands over his tangled hair. "I don't even have anything to wear to a friggin funeral…"

He stopped ranting when her hands gently grasped his wrists, pulling them away from the bag. Her compassionate eyes searched his face before she stepped into his arms.

"It's okay," she said softly, her breath searing him through his shirt. Ray closed his eyes, and crushed her to him.

"This is such a mess. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be feeling right now. All I know is that if I stop moving, then I'll have to think about it, and I don't want to."

"I know," she said. "It's hard to know what you'll feel when this happens, but there really is no way you are supposed to feel, Ray. Whatever you feel is what it is."

He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on her. If anyone knew that bitter truth it was her. She'd lost her husband in war, had nearly gone insane from grief and guilt. Ray had watched helplessly as she'd tried to deal with it alone. He was grateful that she could understand what he was going through at the moment.

"All I keep thinking about is if I'd been there, he wouldn't be dead. If I'd cared more then he wouldn't have been a drunk…"

"None of this is your fault," she said softly. "He made his own decisions. He was a grown man."

Ray pulled away, knowing she was right, but dammit…it was hard to accept that. He was a doctor. He was supposed to save lives. It was his job to heal… But then anger decided to step in. His father hadn't had a care for his own life for years. If he had, he wouldn't have drunk himself into oblivion on a regular basis.

"It pisses me off, Neela. If he'd just taken care of himself, then this wouldn't have happened. Maybe we wouldn't have been like…like strangers…" He blew out a breath, and rubbed his face with his hands, his eyes searching their closet for something he could wear to a funeral. "I don't know. Maybe once I get there it'll be easier to deal with."

"You're going alone?"

Ray hesitated before looking at her.

"Baby, the last thing I want to do is go there alone," he said slowly. "I want you with me. But work is short staffed as it is, even with Jason there. They can't spare anyone else…"

Never in his life had he thought that he would be saying anything like this, but the look in her eyes was enough to tell him that he'd made the right decision. Her eyebrow rose in a sarcastic arch, but in her eyes was pride and a touch of amusement.

"Why, Ray…I do believe you've grown up to become a doctor."

A slow smile crossed his face before he laughed.

"Don't let it get around."

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Ray gingerly eased himself into the cramped seat of the airplane feeling more alone than he'd felt in years. Settling his head back on the seat, he closed his eyes and let exhaustion take him. The seat beside him was a looming reminder of what he was leaving behind him…and what he was rushing toward. The former was a far more comforting thing than the latter, and he wished yet again that he could simply forget that he'd ever answered the phone.

Neela's face rose behind his eyes, her smile soothing him like nothing else could. He smiled at the memory of her words as he'd entered the security checkpoint.

"Call me when you get in. And don't think I won't hop a plane if you don't."

She wasn't the most expressive of women when it came to showing how she cared, but he'd learned to read between the lines. Neela, he'd found, was fiercely protective of those she loved. Even to the point of being a pain in the ass, but he couldn't fault her for it. It was a nice change in his life to have someone actually give a crap whether or not he hurt. Besides, he gave as good as he got, and often the "fights" led to much more interesting and pleasant activities. It wasn't just sex. Sex he'd had before…many, many times. Before, sex was something he did for no other reason than to fulfill a physical need. What he had with Neela was far more…intimate than that. It filled some void that he'd been unaware he had.

His eyes snapped open when the pilot announced that they would be taking off, and he sighed, shaking off his thoughts. Just thinking about her made him miss her. He had enough to occupy him that was hurtful without adding that.

Unbidden, a vision of his father's face flashed through his mind, and it was all he could do to keep himself together. Old memories, like needles, stung him as they came faster and faster. His father teaching him how to hit a baseball. A birthday party, his father beaming as he held the camera. The low voices at night that always sounded like fighting. Finding his father crying on the floor of his room, a letter clutched in his fist.

Ray closed his eyes, mentally willing them to stop as the plane leveled out in the air. He didn't want to remember any of this now. He didn't want to remember the fear, the frustration and pain that those memories evoked. He didn't want to feel the anger that invariably came whenever he thought of those times. Maybe later when he had no choice. But now…now all he wanted was to sleep. Exhaustion was like a weight, holding him down. If he could only sleep…

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_Seven year old Ray entered the house as he always did after school, his clothes muddy from tussling with his friends on the playground. It drove his mother nuts when he came home like this, but he couldn't seem to help himself. It wasn't his fault that he always fell down. It just happened. And what was he supposed to do when Ryan or Carlos jumped on top of him when he did? Just jump up and say no? He had to show them that he wasn't a baby, didn't he?_

_His mind still occupied with the wrestling match he'd been involved in that day; he didn't at first register how quiet the house was. He dropped his bag to the floor next to the door…another habit his mother disagreed with vehemently. It wasn't until he'd taken a few steps into the living room that the silence pierced his brain. An unnamed fear settled in his chest as he listened for the familiar sounds of his mother cleaning or cooking. There was nothing. No sound of pots or pans. No sound of muttering from his room as she picked up his clothes. There was just a glorious absence of sound…_

_No. That was wrong. There was a sound. A sound that set Ray's heart racing in ever deepening fear. Slowly, he made his way to his parents' room where the sound was coming from. He felt like the people did in the scary movies he wasn't supposed to watch but always did. Like he knew there was something bad behind the door, but he couldn't stop himself from opening it. _

"_Don't be a baby," he hissed at himself, even though it did no good. He was scared of the sounds behind the door. He was scared of the silent house. He was just plain scared._

_He stood in front of his parents' room for a long moment, just listening, trying to decide if he wanted to go in. The sounds were muffled by the door, and he couldn't imagine what they were. It sounded like crying, but that was crazy. His parents didn't cry. They were adults. Adults didn't ever cry when they scraped a knee, or fell down. Of course, Aunt Amy cried all the time, but that was just Aunt Amy. After a long moment, he reached out a trembling hand and turned the knob, pushing the door inward._

_There was a startled intake of breath from his father as their eyes locked. His daddy was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, a sheet of paper wrinkled up in his fist. Ray's throat closed up in terror as his daddy's wide bloodshot eyes searched his face. His daddy had been crying. Crying hard like Ray did when he got hurt. For a long time he couldn't move, his heart beating in his ears as he stared at his father._

_He took a step into the room, not even realizing that he was moving. Then another. And another. All he could see were the tears on his daddy's face. When he was close enough, he touched his daddy's cheek, marveling at the moisture that came away on his fingers._

"_Don't cry," he said, but was cut off when his father grabbed him up and held him close. Even though it scared him, Ray allowed his father to hold him as he began to cry again…_

"Sir? We've landed."

Ray jerked awake, his eyes wildly searching for his father, the remnants of the dream still clutching at him. All he found was the concerned face of a flight attendant staring down at him. His heart was pounding in his chest as he reached up to scrub a hand across his face. He wasn't surprised to find that his hand was shaking as he did so. Even after twenty years that memory had the power to take him down.

"Sorry," he muttered to the mildly pretty woman. "Bad dream."

Her carefully sculptured eyebrows came together for a moment before she nodded uncertainly. Then the fake smile was back in place.

"Well, enjoy your stay in Miami, sir."

Ray managed to keep his face blank at her empty platitudes before he rose from his seat to pull his carryon from the overhead bin. Slinging it over his shoulder, he made his careful way down the aisle to the exit.

The airport was a bee hive of activity reminding him of County on most days. No one was running, but that was to be expected. After 9/11 no one ran in an airport unless they were running from something…usually with about a thousand security guards after them. Ray blew out a breath, and made his way from the terminal, counting the minutes until he could get some aspirin. His leg had stiffened up in the cramped space of the plane, and was ready to buckle. He just hoped that Amy had found a way to be here on time.

He didn't have to worry on that score. When he left the terminal, Amy and Uncle Gene were waiting for him. He nearly smiled at that. It was a well known fact that if you wanted Amy to be anywhere on time, then Gene had better drive her.

His aunt offered a soggy smile when she saw him, moving forward to meet him, her round arms outstretched. She was only a little taller than Neela and had always carried twenty extra pounds on her frame. Despite the extra weight, she was pretty… a prettiness that shone through her green eyes to the kind soul beneath. Amy was everyone's mom, everyone's favorite sister…whatever role you needed at the moment, Amy was it. Giving not only herself, but often a plate of whatever it was she was baking at the moment. It didn't really matter what it was, there was always something. Ray bent a little to return the hug he knew was coming. It was best not to argue on that score either. Amy would hug whoever she damn well pleased.

"I'm so glad you came," she said, her voice wavering.

Ray swallowed down the retort he felt rising. Like he'd had any damn choice in the matter. But he didn't say that. He turned his attention to his uncle and offered a small smile.

"How are you, Gene?"

His uncle was everything that Amy wasn't. Where she was small, Gene was tall. Thin as a rail, it was a wonder that a strong Miami wind didn't blow the man away. Dark hair mixed lightly with strands of silver fell over his wide forehead into eyes almost as black as pitch. Gene held out his hand, his dark eyes assessing Ray in that unnerving way he had. Ray didn't flinch from that look as he took the man's hand for a matter of fact handshake. Gene was a lot like Neela in his manner, seeming almost cold on occasion, but when it came to those he loved, the man was like a bear.

"You look tired, boy. And doesn't that girl of yours ever feed you?"

For the first time since this nightmare began, Ray laughed.

"You're one to talk," he snapped back smartly. "You'd think that Amy never fed you."

Gene's stoic expression softened slightly in amusement. Everyone knew that one thing no one could be around Amy was hungry. She would feed the whole neighborhood.

"Stop it, the both of you," Amy cut in with a laugh and a small sniff. "Gene, take his bag. Is that all you brought?"

Ray nodded as Gene took his bag. He refrained from saying he could carry it himself. Amy was just…Amy. Her tender feelings would be hurt if he didn't allow her to take care of him. Before he had time to blink, Gene was gone, Ray's bag thrown over his thin shoulder. Amy tucked her plump hand in the crook of Ray's elbow and gently tugged him toward the exit after her husband.

"I really am glad you came, Ray," she said softly, her green eyes swimming with tears. "I've missed you."

He didn't know what to say to that as she led him outside into the warm Miami afternoon. He took a deep breath, his eyes carefully taking in his surroundings. He'd expected to feel…something at seeing the city he'd grown up in. But he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

"Welcome home," Amy said softly.


	3. Chapter 3

_I want to thank everyone who has read and/or reviewed this story so far. You are all greatly appreciated...:D And I want to thank everyone who has favorited this story... It is overwhelming the response I've gotten from it. So, thank you. And thank you, Jenn...my soul sister...who keeps me as sane as possible with your wit, your courage, your sense of the ridiculous...as well as your unwavering support. Love you..._

_Yours,_

_Erin Allen_

3

_"Most of our faults are more pardonable than the means we use to conceal them."_

-_La Rochefoucauld_

Neela grabbed the phone and punched the button before the first ring had died away. She was starting to get worried as the hours passed and still no word from Ray. Quickly, she muted the television where she'd been searching frantically for a news broadcast of an airplane crash and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, baby."

Neela closed her eyes in relief to hear the most wonderful voice in the world.

"It's about bloody time," she said, trying to cover the fact that she'd done nothing but pace and worry, her heart slowing to something resembling a normal beat. She'd been in a near state of panic for the past few hours. She was rewarded with a laugh.

"Worried about me?"

She snorted out a denial, though it was a lie. And he knew it.

"I always worry about you," she said, slightly annoyed. "How was the flight?" she asked, pulling a blanket around her. Now that he'd called, she could finally relax.

"I slept through most of it," he said slowly.

She frowned. She knew that tone.

"What's wrong?"

He sighed heavily.

"I just had a bad dream, and it's stuck with me."

"About what?" she asked carefully.

"About the day my mom left. I don't know," he sighed, "Maybe it's just that I was coming back here, or because of Dad…it just hit me the wrong way is all."

Neela swallowed hard, her heart aching for him. He'd told her in an offhand way about that time. As if it meant nothing to him, but she knew that it had affected him. How could it not have? A seven year old child was not supposed to come home and find his father crying with a "Dear John" letter clutched in his fist. And what was worse, the woman hadn't deigned to show her face since. Not even to see her own son.

"Are you all right?" she asked instead. She knew how Ray was about his past. The little she knew was gleaned mostly through conversations that happened in the dark, giving Ray the advantage of hiding what he was truly feeling. Most of it, she had to read between the lines. She didn't care about that. It was just the way Ray was, and she wouldn't change that to suit some vain need in herself. He would talk or he wouldn't, but she would be there to listen if he did.

"I don't know," he was saying. "It's just crazy being back here. I'm staying at Dad's house. Amy wanted me to stay with her and Gene, but I needed some time to myself. Amy can be kind of smothering."

Neela smiled. "She sounds sweet."

Ray laughed, and she closed her eyes to picture him in her mind. His hazel eyes alight with his laughter, his mischievous grin plastered to his handsome face. She loved so many things about him, but his smile was one thing guaranteed to melt her on the spot.

"She is, but there's only so much 'together' time that I can take right now. Not to mention, there's only so much I can eat. It shocks me that Gene isn't five hundred pounds by now. That's one reason I didn't call right away. Amy insisted that she feed me. I'm too thin, she says. Five courses later, plus dessert, I think I'm gonna pop."

Neela laughed.

"Growing boys need their strength," she said with a snort. "If she keeps that up, you won't be able to get back on a plane."

"Oh, I'm getting back on a plane," he said with deadly certainty. She heard water run in the background and shut off. He blew out a breath. "I miss you, Neela."

Tears came to her eyes, and she closed them. His voice sounded hollow, lonely, and it echoed something in herself that she'd been ignoring since the moment she'd left the airport. There wasn't a single day in the past year that she hadn't seen him, talked to him, and had him there to hold her. Ray was her heart, and to have him gone was like missing a piece of herself. Having him gone brought up memories of another time when she'd been all alone. A time she never wanted to go back to again.

"I miss you too," she whispered. "I don't know what to do with myself. The apartment is too quiet."

She heard him chuckle under his breath.

"You mean you don't have anyone to nag," he laughed. "That's all right, baby. I'll be home before you know it, and you can nag me all you want then. I miss it."

She smiled. "I don't nag. I suggest with authority. A lot."

"Oh, is that what it is?" he asked dryly. "I'll have to keep that in mind. It might save my sanity."

"You were daft before I met you. I didn't have anything to do with that." She paused, the smile fading from her face. "When is the service?"

"They had to switch it to Monday because the priest won't say a funeral Mass on Sunday. I should be on my way home the next day, but I'll have to come back to see to the estate. Not sure when right now."

A small surge of disappointment rushed through her, but she squashed it. She couldn't rush this just because she missed him. He needed this time, that she knew well. He would be home soon.

"Okay. Just let me know so that I can collect you from the airport. God forbid you stand there waiting."

"You wouldn't leave me waiting."

"Oh, really?" she asked, raising her eyebrow and grinning at his smug, self-assured tone. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because you love me."

She smiled, heat crashing over her at the sexy tone he'd used.

"Yes, I do."

"And no one else can make you scream…"

"Ray!" she exclaimed, mortified and amused all at the same time. He laughed, knowing damn well he'd gotten to her.

"All right, all right. No more sex talk." He paused. "So, what are you wearing?"

000000

Ray hung up the phone with mixed feelings. He felt immeasurably better for having talked to her. His world revolved around that woman, and being away from her was killing him. Their verbal thrusts and parries were what had made his recovery from his accident bearable. Having her there to bully, nag, and shame him into doing what needed done had saved his sanity when he was nearly mindless with pain. And when their relationship had softened, turning to something sweeter than he could ever have imagined possible, he'd known that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. But he didn't want to share what he was feeling right now.

Not yet.

He left the kitchen and moved through his father's house to the living room, thinking he'd done a pretty good job of hiding how unnerved he was. The key to keeping Neela off the scent of a secret was to keep her unbalanced. Distracting her with talk of sex was a sure way. He grinned. Not to mention that it had been immensely pleasurable for him even though he would likely have to take a cold shower later.

He paused in his father's living room, his eyes taking in the neat space. It still amazed him that his father could be the fall down drunk that he was and still hold his life together. It seemed that the only casualty of his father's self destructive behavior had been his relationship with his son. Ray strolled slowly past the commendations from his father's work. Awards for academic excellence, teaching commendations, certificates from volunteer work. All of them were decades old, before time and the bottle had changed a once vital man. It amazed Ray that the house was as neat as it was, but then Amy would have made certain of that. Actually, it amazed Ray that there was still a house to stay in at all with the condition his father had been in for years.

He passed the Wall of Fame to what Ray had dubbed the Wall of Shame. A testament of a relationship that had all but died. The entire wall was covered with pictures of Ray. Little League pictures, school pictures, snapshots of different events that Ray had participated in over the years. Ray proudly holding his first guitar when he was fourteen. Ray half smiled at that one. He'd believed he was going to be the next Stevie Ray Vaughn. Shaking his head, he moved on. His high school graduation and that putrescent blue cap and gown. Ray swallowed hard as the pictures after that dried up to a trickle. He'd broken all but the most meager contact after graduation. In college, he'd barely spoken to his father, even to the point of avoiding Miami when summer breaks came around. When that time came, he'd opted for going to a friend's. Or on band trips to LA. Or anywhere but home. He frowned when he saw a concert photo blown up to show him with his guitar, his nails painted black, his eyes as dark as they could legally get, his hair…what the hell had he been thinking with that hair? His heart plummeted to somewhere near his shoes.

He remembered that concert. He and the band he'd been running with at the time had gone to LA for the summer, playing in some of the seediest dives on the West Coast. Their only real success had been an opener for another, more popular band, and the only reason he remembered the night at all was because he'd met the lead singer for Alkaline Trio that night. He'd been almost too drunk to know if he was even upright.

He pulled the frame carefully from the wall to stare at the photo. It was a little blurry, but clear enough that he could see his face. And not blurry enough to hide the fact that his father had been there. He'd stood there in the audience and watched his son act like a maniac. He'd come all the way to LA to see Ray play.

And he'd never said a word.

Frustration, pain and anger shot through him and he flung the frame into a corner where the glass shattered and fell to the floor. Ray could only stand there breathing hard, staring down at the mess he'd made before whirling away to stalk to his father's den.

This was his father's inner sanctum, a place that Ray had never dared go when he was home. This was where the action happened most days. His father would come home from work, disappear into his den for an hour or two and come out looking steadier than he did when he went in. After dinner while Ray did his homework, there would be another disappearing act. Some nights, his dad would come out again, walking as if on the deck of a ship. Some nights, Ray would just go to bed, giving up on seeing his dad again that night. It had been years before Ray just gave up altogether and didn't wait anymore. Why bother when the man wouldn't be in any condition to have a conversation with anyway?

Ray paused in the doorway, his eyes taking quick inventory of the room, searching for the stash that he just knew was there. A half open cupboard caught his eye, and he crossed the room with furious steps to fling open the door. His breath caught at the variety of bottles that were arranged in neat rows across the shelf. It seemed that his father had not only had enough money to maintain his home, but to keep him in high grade alcohol at the same time. He reached in blindly and pulled out a prime bottle of scotch. His fist gripping the neck of the bottle, he flung himself down in the chair behind his father's desk and simply stared at the bottle in his hand, debating on whether or not to get drunk.

It took all his strength to set the bottle carefully on the desk instead of flinging it across the room. He wasn't going to get drunk. His father had made that mistake, soaking his pain in alcohol to dull the ache. Hell, Ray had made that mistake. If not for the alcohol, he might never have stepped in front of that truck. But he'd learned his lesson, and he had a beautiful woman to go home to. Leaning back in the seat, he ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath, his anger dissipating. This whole house was filled with memories he'd tried to bury. Memories of a past he never wanted to revisit. But his past wasn't important anymore. His future was, and falling into the first bottle wasn't in the cards for that future.

Planting his hands on the desk, he pushed to his feet. His eyes came to rest on his father's file cabinet, another place that Ray had never dared look. He'd opened it once when he was just small, and his dad had nearly come unglued. Ray had never touched it again for fear that his father would have a stroke if he did. Curiosity settled in his gut as he stood before it, taking in the darkened wood of the outer shell. He wondered what the hell he'd find in there when it came time to look. And look he would have to. He'd been shocked enough by the wall full of photos in the living room. What the hell else had his father been hiding?

Ray's hand itched to simply snatch open the drawers and rip the papers out one by one. He wanted answers, dammit. Answers to why he and his father had become virtual strangers. Answers to why the hell his mother hadn't had a care for the son she'd left behind twenty years ago. The deep wood seemed to mock him, hiding so much with just a glimmering finish of dark stain. After a moment, Ray spun on his heel and left the room. He'd had enough of strolling down memory lane for one evening.

He entered his old room, grimacing at the stale smell of it. Apparently, Amy hadn't expected him to stay here and hadn't aired it out. He opened a window, letting in the warm Miami night air, letting the breeze blow away some of the acrid thoughts running through his head. He sat on the bed, and opened his bag, his fingers searching through the compartment in the back for the one thing that would bring him peace tonight.

After a moment, his hand closed over the small box, and he pulled it out to lift the lid. A smile crossed his face and a sense of hope and mingled fear set his heart pounding. The ring wasn't big. A half carat marquis cut diamond with three small diamonds on either side. It was simple, elegant, and fitted Neela to a tee. He'd bought the thing just the week before, using money he'd been setting aside for months to afford just the right one. It amazed him how much it scared him to ask her. Though he was reasonably certain she would say yes, there was still that element of "what if" in there. If he made it through this alive, he was going to ask her the moment he saw her again. He didn't care if it was in the middle of the airport with a thousand people watching. Embarrassing her in that way would just be a bonus.

With a small smile, he closed the lid and tucked the ring back into his bag. He'd brought it with him for no other reason than to keep her from finding it and ruining the surprise he had planned. When Neela was bored/annoyed/pissed, she cleaned. And when she cleaned, everything was cleaned, even if that meant pulling all the drawers out and dumping them to do it all over again. He wasn't taking that chance. Flopping back on the bed, he kicked off his shoes, pushed his bag to the floor and willed his mind to rest.

He didn't hold out much hope that it would.


	4. Chapter 4

4

_Shopping is a woman thing. It's a contact sport like football. Women enjoy the scrimmage, the noisy crowds, the danger of being trampled to death, and the ecstasy of the purchase. -Erma Bombeck_

Ray woke to the rough jangling of broken glass hitting the bottom of a trashcan. He sat bolt upright in his old bed, trying to remember where the hell he was and why he was there. It took only a moment for the events of the past few days to catch up with him. Scrubbing a hand across his face, he glanced at the clock and groaned. He'd only been asleep for a few hours. It was strange, but it was just too hard to sleep alone. He'd gotten so used to Neela being there, that he just couldn't sleep without her.

The nerve-wracking sound of a vacuum cleaner roared to life somewhere in the house, and he stifled the urge to shout at Amy to knock it off. It had to be Amy making all the racket. No other person he knew would have just let themselves into his father's house and started cleaning without regard to the rest of the world's sleeping habits.

He pushed his body from the bed, wincing at the twinge in his leg. His leg had felt worse, he knew, but he couldn't help the slicing humiliation that always cut him whenever he experienced pain from the shattered and mended bones. He'd done something incredibly stupid and was going to have to live with the results. It was one of the few regrets he had but wasn't in any way at the top of the list. He snatched a pair of sweats from his bag and pulled them on before padding from the room in search of Amy. If he were nice enough about it, maybe she would get rid of the vacuum long enough for him to wring all the blood out of his caffeine system.

The growl of the vacuum sounded like a wounded animal as he pinballed down the hall to the living room. Bright shafts of sunlight arrowed through the front windows, making him squint against the glare as he searched for his aunt. When he found her, he couldn't help the smile that crossed his face at the sight of her.

She was dressed in a loose fitting cocoa colored dress with tiny white flowers all over it. A cream-colored cardigan sweater covered most of it, the sleeves pushed to her dimpled elbows as she pushed the sweeper back and forth across the carpet. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun at the back of her head and curled tendrils escaped to sweep across her neck. What made him smile was the fact that she was singing some spectacularly off key melody about love. For certain, Ray now knew that his musical ability hadn't come from his father's side of the family if Amy's singing was any indication.

"Amy!"

She screamed loud enough to be heard over the roar of the vacuum and whirled around with more grace than most women her size possessed. Her plump hand pressed to the space over her heart, she kicked off the switch of the sweeper, panting as she glared at him.

"You scared the life out of me!" she exclaimed, giving him a glower that just didn't seem to fit the pretty, good natured look of her features. "I thought you knew better than to sneak up on people."

"Well, if you hadn't been trying to wake the whole neighborhood with that thing, you would have heard me come down the hall."

She scowled, but couldn't quite pull it off before she laughed.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning back to her work. "But I didn't want you walking through here and cutting yourself on glass."

"I would have cleaned it up," he began, wondering if he would have. He had no desire to touch that photo again. Not at present.

"I know you men," she was saying as she gathered up the cord. "You can't find your socks without a woman's assistance." She waved a hand when he stepped forward to help her. "I've got it, kiddo."

She paused, her eyes rising to meet his and sadness came over her expressive face.

"Don't be mad about the picture, Raymond. Your dad…"

Ray sighed, turning away.

"I don't want to talk about the picture right now," he said, struggling to keep the resentment from his voice. "There's really nothing to say about it anyway."

He studiously ignored the audible sniffle from behind him as he left the room for the kitchen. Amy cried at the drop of a hat. She always had, but he couldn't help the guilt that rose in him, knowing that her tears were his fault this time.

"You're right," she said softly, following him. "I told him then that he should have told you he was there, but…" She broke off, swiping at her eyes and shaking her head. She took a long breath and forced a smile. "But he loved you, kiddo. He wanted you happy."

Ray clenched his fists on the kitchen counter as she said those words, keeping his back to her so she wouldn't see the bitter disbelief in his eyes.

"I'm sure you're right," he finally managed to grind out between clenched teeth. He reached for the coffee pot and filled the carafe with water from the sink.

"So what do you have planned for today?" she asked, dragging the trash can into the kitchen and placing it by the door, effectively changing the subject to something safer for both of them.

"I have to go into the city and buy a suit. The only one I had was ruined…" He paused, again reluctant to talk about anything having to do with his accident. "It was ruined," he finished lamely, spooning coffee grounds into the filter before closing the maker and jabbing the on button.

"I can take you if you like," she said, busying herself cleaning off the already pristine countertops with a rag. "You could buy your old auntie lunch while you're at it. Gene is off doing…God knows what he's doing, but he's not home. I could use the company."

Ray laughed in spite of his earlier feelings. His uncle was notorious for disappearing when Amy got into cleaning mode for fear that she'd find something for him to do. He could usually be found at his brother's house working on whatever wreck of a car Rafe had decided to unearth from a junkyard that week. Everyone seemed to know this but Amy, and no one wanted to betray Gene's obvious hiding place to let her in on it.

"Sure," he said, loyally guarding Gene's not so dark secret. "Give me an hour and we'll go."

She turned to give him a look that was both annoyed and amused.

"You want me to fix you breakfast before we go? You really are too thin. You work too hard."

Ray merely smiled as the coffee pot filled, declining the offered breakfast. If nothing else, Amy was like a mother to him. God knew that she was the closest thing he'd known to one since his mother had taken herself off to wherever it was she'd gotten to.

"Thanks, Amy, but I'm fine. I just need coffee and a shower."

Her brows drew together in skepticism before she sighed heavily.

"All right. But after the wake tonight, you're coming home for a good meal. I won't take no for an answer." She turned, headed for the door. "I'll pick you up in an hour. I just have to run home for my purse. And I have to leave Gene a note telling him where I went. If I don't, and he comes home, he'll get upset, and he's just not the kind of man to take such stress. He really should see a doctor. I tell him…"

The door closed behind her, cutting off her non-stop chatter. Ray shook his head and pulled a cup from the cupboard. He could never quite follow the wanderings of Amy's mind. She switched gears faster than a driver in NASCAR, carrying on one-sided conversations that didn't require an audience. Most people outside their family thought that Amy might be a bit crazy, but Ray knew better. She collected facts like some people collected stamps, tucking them carefully away until she could pull them out and show them off. She had a head for times, dates, people…it really didn't matter; she was a wealth of knowledge for anyone who had the courage to listen to a random jumble of other information before Amy got to the point at hand.

Ray smiled and poured his coffee before taking it with him to the bathroom. If he was lucky, he'd have half an hour to get ready. Amy could be late for anything…except a shopping trip. That was one thing that Amy would never miss.

000000

Four hours later, Ray wished that he'd just kept his mouth shut about shopping for a suit. In his humble opinion, shopping should be done with one objective in mind: Getting what you wanted and leaving. Period. There should be no window-shopping, no wishful thinking, no browsing the stores for bargains. Shopping should be a simple operation, and if Ray had been the man in charge, it would be an outpatient operation.

Amy on the other hand, felt that shopping was an adventure to be savored. A vacation for a day to be enjoyed to the fullest. She perused the sales racks with the stalwart eyes of a general observing her troops. Scrutinizing the smallest detail of each item she pulled off the rack to determine if it was worthy of her attention. By the time she decided that she was ready to eat, Ray was ready to throw himself in front of another truck just to end his misery.

"Are you hungry?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head, peering closely at a pair of pants she'd just pulled off the rack. There was a miniscule spot on fabric that looked more at home in the seventies Go-Go era. She glanced at him and opened her mouth to say something before grinning and returning the item to its home.

"We'll go," she said. "I can see that look in your eyes that says I've been an absolute pain in the behind."

Ray murmured a denial, but in his head he agreed wholeheartedly. He tossed the garment bag holding his suit over his shoulder as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. He'd found what he wanted in five minutes. No muss, no fuss. A black suit that looked very much like what he'd lost, a green shirt, and shoes. Amy had insisted on buying the shirt and socks, saying that she'd not had the chance to buy a birthday present for him yet, even though his birthday was three months off. Ray let her for no other reason than to stave off the tears if he didn't.

"Where are we eating?" he asked, his eyes darting for the front entrance of the mall.

"There is a fabulous little café here that serves the most wonderful lunch menu…"

He sighed as she tugged on his arm to drag him further from the entrance than was comfortable. He listened to her recite nearly word for word what was on the menu, give a detailed review on each item she'd tried, and greet the waiter that seated them by name. Ray hid his grin behind his menu as Amy asked the teenager about his family before ordering lemonade. Ray gave his order and shook his head slightly at the bemused look on the kid's face before he wandered off to get their drinks.

"Is your girl coming for the funeral?"

The question caught Ray off guard and he froze.

"The only reason I ask is if she is coming I'll make up another room…"

"Amy, Neela and I share a room."

She paused, her face reddening slightly before she lowered her eyes.

"I knew that," she said quickly. "It's just hard for me to remember that you're grown now. I still remember when you fell off your bike in front of my house and skinned your knee when you were five. Do you remember that?"

It was Ray's turn to feel embarrassed.

"Yeah. I cried for an hour and ate four cookies while you put a band-aid on it. It didn't even bleed."

She smiled, her plump face lighting up.

"You could even scream on key," she told him, and he laughed.

"No one would ever have guessed that I'd become a doctor."

She laughed and shook her head.

"I knew you'd do something great, kiddo."

Ray ducked his head from the proud look in her eyes. Praise always made him uncomfortable. Most of the time he did his best to hide it behind jokes or a false front. But before his aunt's kind heart, he was a child again. Shifting in his seat, he cleared his throat and thanked the waiter as he brought their drinks. When the kid was gone, he glanced at Amy, dreading what he was about to say.

"No, Neela isn't coming for the funeral. With me gone, they're short handed in the ER."

Amy sighed, disappointment written clearly across her face.

"I was so hoping to meet her. Any woman that can keep you in line has got to be something."

Ray grinned, wholeheartedly agreeing. Neela was something all right. Something extraordinary.

"She is."

Amy cocked one eyebrow and smiled.

"Just invite me to the wedding."

Ray's mouth dropped open but he shut it just as quickly. The usual protests that came to mind were wrong. He _was_ hoping to marry her. Denying it was pointless. Instead, he took a drink to hide his embarrassment and pointedly ignored Amy's knowing look. He had other things he needed to think of anyway. Things that needed taken care of so he could get home and begin planning a wedding.

"I need to go back to Chicago the day after the funeral. Tonight after the wake, I was gonna go through some of Dad's papers. Just to get a head start on cleaning up the place."

Ray frowned as Amy's smile faded and she looked away.

"Don't worry about that, kiddo. I'll take care of it."

Ray watched as she busied herself arranging her silverware, sipping from her straw, looking over the menu as if she hadn't the already given him a word for word listing of what was on it. His frown deepened. She hadn't even protested his abrupt departure from Miami as he'd expected her to.

"Is there something I should know?" he asked.

She jumped as if he'd suddenly pulled out a gun and begun waving it around.

"Of course not. I just don't want you burdened with all those details that are bound to be painful. Gene and I will take care of it all. You just worry about your girl. Get married. Make me a great aunt."

Ray swallowed hard at the sight of her strained smile. Something was wrong. Amy never avoided anything. It wasn't in her nature. She could barely get from one end of the block to the other without getting lost, but she never avoided things. There was something going on that she was trying to keep from him. For whatever reason either to spare him pain or to simply protect her brother, it mattered little in the end. For a moment, Ray thought to call her on it. Push her until she spilled the truth. But he couldn't do it. Not with her pretty green eyes watching…pleading with him to let it drop.

"If you think you can handle it," he said slowly, watching her expression. Her face immediately relaxed in relief.

"We can, kiddo. Don't you worry about it." She smiled and leaned forward. "Now tell me about this girlfriend."


	5. Chapter 5

_I want to thank everyone who read and/or reviewed the previous chapters to this. I know that I took a long hiatus, but I'm hoping that this will make up for that. _

_Yours,_

_Erin_

5

_A secret's worth depends on the people from which it must be kept.-__Carlos Ruiz Zafon__ , __The Shadow of the Wind_

Ray could barely eat the dinner his aunt cooked. His stomach was tied into knots. After years apart, he was about to see his father, but it was unlike the meeting he'd imagined. He'd believed that he would eventually come here and have it out with the man. Tell him exactly what he thought of him. He didn't want to admit that a small part of him had craved some measure of true remorse on his father's part. Had craved reuniting with his father on a level that didn't involve alcohol induced tears. That was something he would never even admit to Neela. That was one thing he could hardly admit to himself.

The ride to the funeral parlor seemed impossibly long and far too short all at the same time. Ray sat in the back seat wearing his new clothes, watching the streets pass as they drove. He listened to his aunt chatter on as she always did when she was upset or nervous. It didn't matter much which she was feeling at the moment. He answered her questions as if in autopilot. Short, sweet, to the point. She didn't seem to notice, and for that he was grateful. He wasn't in the mood to pour his heart out right now, especially since he didn't have the slightest idea of what he was truly feeling.

He endured the meeting with the funeral director, shaking hands with him and listening to words of comfort and sympathy that for some reason seemed hollow. Ray knew the man had seen thousands of people come through here to mourn their dead and he'd probably said the same words to them. It meant nothing.

"Are you ready?" Amy asked softly, taking his arm to lead him gently into a room at the far end of the hall.

He nodded, words failing him for the moment. Gene trailed behind them, looking impossibly out of place in these surroundings. The place was decorated for the maximum possible comfort. His uncle was more comfortable in jeans and a tee-shirt, his arms covered in grease up to his elbows and beyond. He squirmed in his sport jacket like a little kid in church. Ray knew exactly what he felt like.

But then there wasn't any more time to think of discomfort. For a moment, it was all he could do to breathe. His father lay in the plush coffin, his hands resting peacefully on his chest. His hair had receded a little more than Ray remembered. The lines on his face were relaxed in death, the burdens of his life having been laid aside. Ray swallowed hard at the sight of the wedding ring on his finger. He'd never given that up, even after the divorce. He lifted his eyes to the photo propped above and stared at his father's smiling face.

Ray didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling at this moment. A part of him knew what he was supposed to feel. He could see the expectation in his aunt's face. The wary look of hope that she would see in his face what she wanted to see. Sadness. Devastation. Remorse, perhaps. He didn't know which one or if she wanted all of them. It didn't matter really. He felt nothing more than a sense of emptiness as he stared down at the empty shell that had once been his father. There was so much that would now be unsaid; so much that they couldn't do. They'd lost that chance a long time ago. For a moment, Ray wished that he could turn back time and rail at the man for all he'd put him through over the years. Rail at him or beg him to give one shit about him instead of the bottle.

"He looks so peaceful," Amy sniffled beside him. Her voice hitched in that way it always did right before she settled into a full blown sob. He nodded dutifully, willing himself to feel something…anything, but all he could feel was numb. Without a word, he turned away from the coffin wishing that Neela could be with him. He heard Amy begin to cry behind him, but he shut out the sound of her weeping as he made his way to the back of the room away from the platform holding the body of his father. He snorted derisively. It was like a fucking storefront window. Death on display, dressed up with pretty flowers and soft music. It disgusted him all of a sudden. He'd seen death in the ER. It was quick and painless or came with blood and screaming. It was cancer or a heart attack. A car accident. A drug overdose. It never came with sweet smelling flowers or the sound of "Ave Maria" in the background.

He pushed through the doors to the hall and past the waiting mourners there for the wake. He ignored the whispers that followed his flight. He shut his ears to the sound of his name being called. He needed to get out. Even if it was just for a minute. It sickened him the spectacle they were making of this. He knew that everyone would cry and offer sympathy that he didn't need or want. As if they didn't know that he and his father hadn't spoken in months. As if everything was still all right.

Ray shoved through the door labeled tastefully "Men" and crossed the white tiled floor to stand before the mirror with his hands braced against the sink. Hazel green eyes stared back at him from the reflection in the glass. Hazel eyes that looked tired and worn. He could see the beginning of fine lines around his eyes and wondered if age were catching up with him or if he was only tired. He fumbled in his suit jacket and pulled out his cell phone, debating whether or not to call Neela. He had no idea what time it was in Chicago, but he needed to hear her voice. He needed _her_. Never once since they'd finally come together had he felt as alone as he did in this moment.

Ray hit the auto dial, his finger hovering over the "Send" button. He cursed softly, snapping the phone shut again before dropping it in his pocket. He could deal with this. He could close this chapter of his life without burdening her. She'd been burdened by his emotional train wreck enough. He knew she wouldn't care if he called and woke her up. He knew that she would always be there if he needed her. He just wanted to prove to himself that he could stand on his own two feet for this. He could break down later. When he got home he would fall on his knees and beg if needs be.

Forcing a smile for his reflection, he turned on the taps and filled his cupped hands with water. He felt a little better after he'd splashed some across his face. More in control. Ray didn't know how he was going to get through the rest of the night, but he had to. If for no other reason than Amy needed him to.

Wiping his hands and face, he pushed open the door to the restroom only to pull back into the shadows as Amy stormed past, her pretty face twisted with worry.

"You can't be here, Felice."

Ray felt his breath stop in his chest at the sound of that name. Inching forward, he looked up the hall and felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. If the wake wasn't enough to deal with, his mother had decided to take this time to finally show up. He swallowed hard, his eyes roving over her face. She'd changed little in twenty years. Her face bore more lines and her dark hair carried more silver than brown, but he would never forget the tight look of anger that had always been in her brown eyes. He would never forget the harsh set of her mouth or the way her smile would seem just a little more predatory than was seemly.

"I can be wherever I want to be, Amy," he heard her say in a voice that he remembered. Rough and slightly tinged with sarcasm. "This is still a free country and I wanted to see the old goat buried."

Ray took a step forward, his rage rising to the fore as he heard Amy's sharp gasp.

"Felice, you cannot be here. Ray is here and you promised…"

Ray frowned, pulling back into the shadows. What had Amy meant by that? Promised? What promise?

"I promised _him_," his mother snapped, gesturing toward the room beyond. "I didn't promise you a damn thing."

"Please, Felice," Amy begged. "No good will come of rehashing this…"

"I've kept my silence for nearly thirty years. I refuse to keep his secret any longer. It was bad enough that he brought that little bastard into the house let alone expected me to help him raise it."

The wheels of Ray's mind suddenly ground to a full halt at the cruelty of those words. He'd had a feeling that his mother disliked him, but he'd never imagined that she outright hated him. Without thought, he stepped into the hall, his heart raw from the slices her razor edged tongue had given it. Then the full import of her statement hit him and he moved forward.

"Maybe you could let me in on the little secret," he snapped, becoming fully the Chief Resident. His eyes darted to Amy's startled face and back to his mother. He ignored the pleading look in her eyes. He was in no mood for it now. "I wish I could say that it's good to see you, Mom, but I would be lying if I did."

Her eyes scanned his face for a moment before she smirked.

"Well it lives and breathes. Word on the streets says that you're a doctor now. Some big shot in Chicago." Her tone said that she very much doubted it.

"I am," he said simply. It was all she really needed to know. "What the hell are you doing here? Haven't you done enough?"

"Hardly. Isn't the widow supposed to come to the funeral?"

"I don't think being an ex-wife qualifies you to be the widow," Ray snarled. "Especially since you haven't seen each other in over two decades."

She smiled coyly.

"Touché. You're right. I didn't come for that."

Ray narrowed his eyes.

"Then why are you here? Money?"

Her laughter was brittle and overly loud. Several people turned frowns their way from the other end of the hall.

"Money, I have. I came…"

"Felice, please," Amy choked out.

"I want to hear this, Amy," Ray said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was beyond anger. Beyond hatred. Something was happening beyond his basic understanding. Something that had turned his aunt into a liar, his mother into a cruel shrew, and his father into a drunk. He damn well wanted to know what it was.

"He wants to know the truth," Felice said, eyeing him up and down. "It's about time you did. You should have been told years ago, but they got it in their heads that you were actually family."

Ray's frown deepened.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You think that man in there was your father? You think that I'm your loving mother?" She glanced at Amy. "This isn't even your aunt."

Ray's heart turned over in his chest as his breathing sped up. For the second time in a week, his world was grinding to a halt. What she was saying was insanity, and yet…

"You're lying," he said softly, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Ask her."

Ray glanced at Amy. Her hands covered her face as she cried silently into her handkerchief.

"Amy?"

She shook her head before dropping her hands to look at him. Ray took one look into her watery green eyes and turned away, seeing all the confirmation he needed there in her face. His heart went through an entire gamut of emotions in the span of seconds. But what he mainly felt was rage. Rage and hurt so deep that he felt as if he'd been gut shot.

"So why tell me now?" he heard himself ask. "Why now and not when I was a kid?"

"He wanted you to be our child. He couldn't have kids." Felice's voice was laced liberally with contempt. "A fact he didn't share with me until much later in our marriage. I didn't want a kid that wasn't mine."

Ray turned his head to look at her. He had no idea what she saw in his face, but she took a step back, her expression turning uneasy.

"And did you get what you wanted?" he asked sharply.

"Yes."

Ray nodded.

"Then get out. You've done enough damage for a lifetime."

She frowned.

"I want to know…"

"He's dead. Any money he was paying you for your silence is done. Especially since the cat's out of the bag now."

Her lips thinned in anger.

"You can't…"

"Get out!" he shouted suddenly. "Get the fuck out of here, Felice. If you don't leave now, I'll toss you out."

He took a step toward her, and she turned tail and ran for the exit as fast as her heels allowed, throwing one last hateful look over her shoulder.

Leaving him alone with Amy.

"Ray…"

"You lied to me. All those years, you knew and you lied to me."

"I didn't lie. Your father…he asked me to keep…"

"He told you to lie."

"No! That's not how it was, Ray!"

"Then tell me how it was, Amy!" he shouted, hating the way she flinched away from him, but he couldn't stop himself. "Tell me how it was, because all I've heard from you is bull shit."

She turned away from him, her face in her hands, her plump shoulders shaking as she wept. Ray brutally shoved away the guilt at seeing her cry. He couldn't afford it right now. He needed the truth from her.

"Tell me the truth, Amy. For Christ's sake at least give me that."

She dropped her hands and sucked in a huge breath. Ray felt the eyes on them from the doorway at the same moment her gaze flicked ruefully to a spot just beyond them. He turned to glare at them.

"Is there a problem?" he asked smartly, uncaring if he seemed like an ass. They seemed startled by his harsh tone, some frowning and grumbling as they turned away.

"Ray, please," she said softly as they left. "Your father couldn't have children. He was ill as a child with some fever and it took that from him. And he wanted a child so badly…"

"So what…he bought one? Stole one?"

She frowned, her eyes bright with tears.

"Your mother gave you up. She was very young and she wanted you to be with a family who…"

"What? Cared about me?" Ray laughed bitterly. "If this is what caring is, then I'd rather be hated."

He turned for the door, intent on leaving. Amy reached out and snagged his arm.

"Ray, your father loved you very much. He just had a hard time showing it."

He jerked his arm from her grip, backing away.

"He couldn't show it at all," he said softly. "If you love someone, you don't lie to them. You don't keep secrets from them, and you sure as hell don't drink to forget them."

"Ray…"

He narrowed his eyes at her, his temper just beneath the surface.

"Is this why you wanted to go through the papers at the house?" he asked. "So you could get rid of the evidence? Keep it from me forever?"

"You were adopted, Ray, not kidnapped."

Ray snapped his head around to find Gene standing in the doorway, his thin arms crossed over his chest. He'd closed the door behind him, shutting away the watching throng.

"You could have fooled me the way it was covered up," Ray retorted. "I should have been told years ago."

Gene glanced at Amy, his brow furrowing.

"You've made your aunt cry," he said darkly. "Take a walk, get yourself under control."

Ray thinned his lips and nodded before turning toward the door.

"Are you coming back?"

Ray paused, his hand on the door before shaking his head at his aunt's question.

"Don't count on it," he whispered as he yanked the door open and threw himself into the Miami night.


	6. Chapter 6

6

_Know Thyself._

--Inscription of the Delphi Oracle

His hand was shaking as he poured the Scotch into the crystal glass and drank it down in one gulp. The liquor burned down his throat and hit his stomach like a bonfire. For a long moment, all he could do was breathe deeply and wait for the bloom of heat to fade. The buzz of impending intoxication hit him almost immediately. It had been a long time since he'd had a drink. He paused, the glass halfway to his lips before slowly setting it on the desk. If he did what he wanted to do, then he'd end up more than drunk. He'd be slobbering stupid drunk. The way he'd been the night his life had changed forever.

Ray deliberately pushed the crystal away from him and turned to face the file cabinet. It seemed to stare back at him, mildly, innocently. Another lie.

He'd returned to his father's house without a backward glance at the weeping face of his aunt. He should feel remorse. He should feel sorry for saying the things he'd said to her in the hall, but he couldn't scrape up an ounce. She'd lied to him. He couldn't get past that one fact. She'd lied to him. Gene had lied to him. And worst of all, his father had lied to him. His mother, twisted as she was, had at least told him the truth. She'd at least given him that, though far too late to his way of thinking.

Slowly, Ray crossed the room and yanked open the top drawer of the cabinet. His fingers swiftly roamed over the words on the tabs of the file folders. After a moment, he slammed the drawer shut and pulled out the next one with a snarl.

"Where the hell is it?" he muttered under his breath.

Finally, he paused, his fingers going still as they came across his name spelled out in his father's neat writing. Ray pulled the file from the drawer slowly, trying to tell himself that it was the alcohol that made his hands shake like they were. There was nothing in there that could hurt him any more than he had been.

But when he lifted the cover of the file, he realized that he was wrong. Until he'd finally opened that file, he'd held out a hope that this was all just a bad dream. Or his mother had lied. Or that Amy had been playing along with some bizarre practical joke.

_Certificate of Adoption_

Ray closed his eyes, unable to read any more. There was nothing identifying in it anyway. Nothing to give him a clue as to who he was. For a moment he could only sit there, listening to the silence in the house. His name was a lie. His life was a lie. When he'd left Chicago, he'd believed that he had a handle on things. His father was screwed up, true; but he'd been pulling his own life together. Neela, his job, his friends…all of it was bull shit.

With a foul curse, he tossed the file across the room. The papers inside flew out and fluttered to the floor like a hundred white butterflies. He turned away, stalking for the door.

"Ray?"

Ray paused for only a second before continuing to his room. He wasn't in the mood to talk to his aunt. He wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone that couldn't get him back to Chicago like yesterday. He snatched open the drawer that held his clothes and started stuffing them into his bag. He heard her light tread in the doorway behind him but refused to look in her direction.

"Ray? Please…"

"Leave me the hell alone, Amy."

"Ray…" She paused and he heard her sigh heavily. "We had a very good reason for keeping it from you."

"How nice for you."

"Don't take that tone with me, kiddo. I've lived with guilt for the past twenty-five years for not telling you."

Ray whirled around to glare at her.

"Well, you don't have to feel guilty anymore," he snarled. "I know now."

"Yes, you know, but you don't understand. Your father wanted a child. Your birth mother couldn't raise you. We never even knew her name, only that she was very young. He was so happy the day he got the call that you'd been born…"

Ray turned away and planted his hands on the top of the dresser. He tried to find some semblance of calm, but it eluded him. He turned his head to look at her, keeping his back between them like a barrier.

"So what…I was like a stray dog that needed a home? He just happened to have some free space?"

She flinched as he ended the sentence with a shout that hurt his throat.

"And I suppose now you're going to tell me how special I am because they picked me. How loved I was and still am because my mother chose to give me up rather than abort me or raise me in poverty. Is that what you're going to say? Because quite frankly, I don't want to hear it."

"Ray, all I can say is I'm sorry that you found out this way. I'm sorry that we kept this from you all these years…"

Ray swallowed hard and grabbed up a handful of clothes tossing them into his bag with as much force as he could muster. He was done talking about this.

"Too little too late, Amy. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to catch the next flight back to Chicago. I have some packing to do."

Her eyes widened as she took in the shambles in the room.

"You're leaving now? But the funeral…"

"He wasn't my father, Amy. I don't give a damn if some piece of paper said he was. A real father doesn't drink himself into oblivion every night and forget he has a son. A real father doesn't call his son on the phone begging for bail money because he'd just gotten another DUI."

Her face twisted in grief and anger.

"You don't know a damn thing, Ray. Stop being so selfish…"

His eyebrows shot to his hairline and he whirled on her.

"Selfish? I'm being selfish? I think that I have a right to a little selfishness."

"I know you feel that we betrayed you…"

"You don't have any idea what I'm feeling," he said flatly. "Now if you don't mind, I have a plane to catch."

She lowered her head, her eyes welling up with tears as he threw his bag over his shoulder and passed her for the door. He stopped long enough to gather up the papers in his father's office and stuff them in his bag before heading for the door.

"Ray?"

He paused, his hand on the door knob as his aunt's tearful voice called out to him.

"I'm so sorry, Ray."

A lump rose in his throat as he nodded curtly. He swallowed it down and yanked open the door, flinging himself into the night.

000000

Ray limped off the plane at O'Hare feeling more tired than he'd ever felt in his life. Not even when he pulled double shifts, staying awake for two days at a time did he feel like this. Suddenly a song from Jefferson Airplane started playing through his head. "_One pill makes you larger; One pill makes you small…" _That's what he felt like. Like Alice down the rabbit hole. Everything was fantastically strange and yet was exactly the same. As if he were moving through water rather than air. As if his head was filled with cotton, dulling all external stimuli. He felt disconnected, out of place.

And alone. Never had he felt this alone. Nothing was the same. He wasn't a part of a family. That family had lied to him time and again. Hell, they weren't even his family. He cringed inwardly at all the times that family pictures had been brought out at the family get-togethers. No one had ever said, "Ray looks just like his father," or, "Ray has Grandpa's eyes." They couldn't possibly say anything like that. He was just some stray that had been brought into a home. Like a dog.

He winced as he made his way slowly into the terminal and toward the front doors. His leg was killing him. His head hurt. But most of all his heart was aching with the knowledge that he had not been wanted. Not by the mother who'd given birth to him. Not by the woman he'd known by that name. His hand strayed to his pocket where he'd left Neela's ring. He'd pulled it from his bag on the plane and stared at it for hours. When he bought it, it had seemed like a symbol of what they had together. A beginning to a future that was as bright and beautiful as the diamonds in the setting. For some reason, when he looked at it now, it seemed dulled. Dirty. False.

So he'd stuffed it into a pocket of the jacket he'd finally stripped off wondering if he should even ask Neela to be with him now. He didn't even know who the hell he was.

Hailing down a cab wasn't hard. The cabbies seemed to stalk the airport entrance like a long line of yellow vultures, endlessly circling looking for prey. Ray felt like prey at the moment, slipping into the backseat, easing his aching leg to a semi-comfortable position on the seat beside him.

"Where to?"

Ray gave the man his address and rested his head against the window, watching the darkened streets of Chicago pass silently by. They were the same ones he had left behind two days before, but they looked different. Everything looked different. He'd felt like this only one other time; the night his life had almost ended. Waking up in the hospital, in more pain than he'd ever experienced in his life, the world had looked like this. Slightly skewed but the same. Ray closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the streets, the people, anything but what he wanted to block out.

The terrible knowledge that he was living with.

The cabbie woke him up in front of his building, and Ray climbed out of the cab feeling as if he'd not slept at all. Paying the man, he turned to look up at the building, his eyes taking in the sight of the home that he and Neela had made together. A light was on in their apartment. He smiled painfully at the sight of that light. Neela insisted they keep it on in case they needed to get up in the night. She didn't want to trip and sprain her ankle again because he'd forgotten to put something away. It was that light that drove home everything, and Ray suddenly felt the insane urge to weep as he had when he'd awakened in the hospital.

That light was like a beacon leading him home, but would Neela accept him once she learned the truth of him? He could barely accept himself.

Breathing deeply to hold the pain at bay, he made his way up the stairs and into the building. He leaned heavily against the railing in the elevator as it ascended to his floor. He hobbled through the doors when they slid silently open before he limped the last few steps to his door gratefully. Quickly, he unlocked the door and eased it open to keep the hinges from squealing.

The apartment was silent but for the tick and whir of the refrigerator and the dull sounds of the apartment above. Carefully, he set his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes. Dropping his jacket over his bag, he moved carefully across the floor to their room.

Easing the door open, he stood in the doorway, staring at her as she slept. The faint light from the window fell across her face, relaxed in sleep. His heart clenched painfully at the sight of her. She was so beautiful. So beautiful inside and out. Her strength was amazing and shamed him that he felt so weak all of a sudden. Swallowing hard, he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. He couldn't wake her up right now. Not until he could get his mind around this. He couldn't burden her with his shame right now. He didn't want to confess to her right now that he was nothing more than an abandoned child, unwanted by the woman who'd given him life. Unwanted by the woman who had taken him in.

If she knew all that, what the hell made him think that she'd want him? What the hell was so wrong with him?

With a heavy sigh, he made his way to the light and flipped it off before falling heavily on the couch. It was best that he stay out here until he could get himself together, or else he would end up confessing everything. He didn't want that. Being abandoned twice in his life was quite enough for him.

With that bitter thought in his head, Ray leaned his head back on the couch and fell asleep.


End file.
